


these iron bars can't hold my soul in

by beanpod



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Criminals, Crimes & Criminals, Like super minor i guess, M/M, Minor Character Death, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 14:48:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13413546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beanpod/pseuds/beanpod
Summary: The first time Hoseok ever kills someone, he's fourteen and his brother is lying bruised on the school lockers' floor.





	these iron bars can't hold my soul in

**Author's Note:**

> story time: a hundred years a go i wrote and published the basic idea of this fic (and, admittedly, most of its content) for a different fandom (if you know which one don't point it out lol), and as i was cleaning my drive from old docs last year, i found this sitting quietly by itself. i thought 'wouldn't it be cool to see it adapted to another pairing, say, showho maybe????' and it wouldn't leave my mind. 
> 
> it honestly feels like cheating, using an old draft to write for a whole different pairing, but i've changed a lot of things, i think, and even added some more as i'm thinking of this maybe becoming a series. idk, maybe, we'll see. the non-linear narrative is, like, vague in itself because the flow is actually linear at some points. so sorry about that.
> 
> the title is from nickelback's 'savin' me' which i honestly consider one of my favorite songs of all time, sue me.

 

The first time Hoseok ever kills someone, he's fourteen and his brother is lying bruised on the school lockers' floor. His baseball bat is chipped along its surface and the man holding his head as he spits blood and bitten off curses is bigger than him by at least two feet. Hoseok's still scrawny, hasn't really grown into his body yet, slightly gangly and limbs awkward.

Something runs through Hoseok's frail body, though—adrenaline and fear and delight and _power_ , and it's wrong, every cell in his body screaming _wrong! wrong! wrong!_ at him as he swings his arm higher and aims for the last time. Hyunwoo, his uniform spotted with blood as well, uncurls Hoseok's fingers around the bat one by one, whispers _it's okay, it's okay,_ but Hoseok knows better.

Somehow Hyunwoo does, too.

His brother doesn't make it past the night. Hoseok's mom is a mess of tears and shrieks, and he can't take the sight of it, of her, of his brother lying still on that bed, anymore. It's all white walls, white sheets, white faces.

He walks out of the hospital and dives into a piss-smelling ally and sags against a bricked wall, exhausted and yet so awake it makes his joints ache.

When he closes his eyes, all he sees is the man lying dead on the floor, blood everywhere around them; his brother's battered body a blurry, distant memory he desperately wishes away.

 

 

"There's ten grand inside," Kang says, sliding the cash on the table with a long, slim finger. "For a job well done, blah, blah, blah."

The sun is peeking through the badly walled-in windows and it makes Kang's dark hair shine faintly. Hyunwoo shifts in his chair as Hoseok takes the offered money and stuffs it inside his bag, but he doesn’t say anything.

"Our pleasure," Hoseok says, and he smiles somewhat fondly as he stands up. Kang remains were he is, sat behind the same wooden table Hoseok's always sat opposite of, examining his fingernails with a bored air about him.

He nods, smiles sideways. "Now get out of here and get some rest. Or just _get some_. You kids are driving me insane with all this sexual tension. Get the hell out of my office."

Hoseok snorts a laugh as Hyunwoo says, "Why, yes, of course we will, right away, sir," with a cheeky grin, and makes his way out of the room right behind Hyunwoo, eyes never leaving the small of his back.

 

 

Hoseok isn't in love. He's not even mildly infatuated. No, really, he isn't.

Hyunwoo's been there forever, Hyunwoo is familiar, he means home in a way Hoseok doesn't think much of lately because he doesn't remember much of it either way. Hyunwoo reminds Hoseok of baseball practice, of the summer beach, of hot chocolate and cinnamon cookies in the winter.

They're young and naïve and alone and love is not something made out for people like them. It _can't_ be love.

It still doesn't explain why they're suddenly kissing, or why Hoseok's enjoying it oh so very much. But, he thinks, there's a difference between love and—and whatever it is they're doing, there _has_ to be. This isn’t love.

When Hoseok slides his hands down Hyunwoo's neck, fingers catching at the wrinkles of his worn out sleeping shirt, Hyunwoo cups his hip, hand big and warm and heavy. It's been long since the last time Hoseok's allowed himself to get this far (or close) with someone, but Hyunwoo is _familiar_ , Hyunwoo is _safe_ , and then thought itself, the feel of Hyunwoo's lips pressed against his, his tongue prodding gently at Hoseok's lower lip, makes a shiver run down his back.

He tries not to think of how Hyunwoo seems to be chasing the tremor with the pads of his fingers, touch gentle, gentle, gentle.

 

 

Hoseok is making his wobbly way out of a half decent noodle shop, hands shoved deep inside his coat's pockets, when he bumps into a solid body right in front of his. He looks up to find a dude so big he blocks the streetlamp's light and something swirls within Hoseok, something long forgotten and yet so ever present.

It makes his thumbs itch.

"Watch where you're going, bitch," the guy says, snarling and baring his teeth.

Hoseok wants nothing better than to punch every single one out.

Which he does, just for fun, and because it makes for good practice, he figures.

Hyunwoo attends to his split knuckles when he gets to their shared hole-in-the-wall apartment and he's silent through most of the night, only says things like, "These will scar," when he picks grit and dirt from Hoseok's bloody skin, and Hoseok bites hard on his tongue because what are a few scars like these compared to what they've been through so far?

Hyunwoo is quiet as he works, always so quiet and gentle, and Hoseok aches for different reasons altogether now.

"Thank you," he murmurs when Hyunwoo gives the dressings one last pat. His fingertips linger on the back of Hoseok's hand, warm and calloused.

"Anytime," Hyunwoo says. He smiles sideways, rueful. "Just don't make a habit out of it."

 

 

(When Hoseok runs away, he doesn't expect Hyunwoo to tag along. They're only seventeen and Hyunwoo's future seems a lot brighter than Hoseok's would ever turn out to be—wrenched family or not. Hyunwoo's been accepted to three out of the four colleges he applied, full scholarships waiting for him to say yes. Hoseok says, "You're gonna be great," one night, both of them lazily picking through a box of pizza in Hyunwoo's room. "I'm gonna be gutted I won't be here to see you off, though."

It's the only time Hoseok's ever mentioned leaving this place, and Hyunwoo grunts a reply before reaching for another slice, but he doesn't say anything more.

If anything, he'd thought Hyunwoo would play the mom part and chide Hoseok until Hoseok dropped his duffel bag and begrudgingly agreed on staying even when there was no one waiting for him at home anymore, when every corner of their small neighborhood felt wrong.

Hyunwoo shows up at the train station with a bag full of baked goods, presumably from his mother's kitchen, and fuck it, Hoseok might have broken his own mom's heart more than once, but Hyunwoo's doesn't deserve this.

"You're my best friend," Hyunwoo shrugs, and the motion makes the strap of his bag slide down his arm. "I've got your back. She says to write every night, though. Both of us."

And Hoseok smiles sadly despite the situation they're both in (no, despite the situation he's dragged Hyunwoo into), because runners with as heavy luggage as theirs don't get too far and he knows it. At least Hyunwoo will still have a family waiting for him.)

 

 

Kihyun finds them first. He's got bright pink hair at the time and he looks like he means trouble and like he could break someone's neck without breaking a sweat, and it makes Hoseok wonder what kind of life have they all been leading till now because their encounter isn't exactly fairy tale like.

Kihyun's touching the man's neck looking for a pulse, the same man who'd knocked Hyunwoo out with his left fist. Hoseok isn't listening to what he's saying, his entire attention is drawn to the thin drip of blood running down Hyunwoo's right cheek and how he looks so young and pale and broken against the dark gravel.

Just how Hoseok's brother looked, except he had been breathing the last time Hoseok'd seen him and he's not sure Hyunwoo is.

When he snaps out of it, when his breathing goes back to normal and his heart isn’t threatening to break out of his chest, Kihyun is crouching down beside Hyunwoo's body, pressing his fingers to the side of his neck, and—

"Step away from him." Hoseok's fingers tighten around the broken pipe he's holding.

"Come on, help me carry him." Kihyun looks up at Hoseok, eyes narrowed and cautious. "You guys are gonna need a place to stay tonight."

Hoseok releases a breath at the same time Hyunwoo stirs awake.

 

 

It only happens when they're under the influence. Of alcohol or adrenaline most times, and both if the occasion calls for it. First it's only kissing, then there's a bit of groping, the fun kind of rubbing, even, and sooner than Hoseok is ready to give into (not that he wouldn't, he's not a blushing teenager anymore, for fuck's sake, he's almost nineteen), he's on his knees with Hyunwoo's cock in his mouth and hands in his hair.

It's not pretty. It's the first time, yes, but it's far from special. Hyunwoo howls in pain at least two times—"fuck, mind your _teeth_ ,"—and Hoseok almost chokes the once.

But he makes Hyunwoo come, long and hard and shuddering, with Hoseok's name on his lips, and even though it's embarrassing because Hyunwoo barely strokes Hoseok's cock once, Hoseok comes with that image burning holes into his memory, the thought of having wrecked Hyunwoo over only using his mouth pinned to his brain.

"T'was great," Hyunwoo says later, and his mouth is pressed against the curve of Hoseok's neck and Hoseok has the distant, vaguely horrifying thought of asking Hyunwoo whether he'd mind to stay there forever.

 

 

Mr. Kang owns the bar where they hang out at nights. It's a dodgy looking one, but everything in their lives has been dodgy since they ran away, so it's not much of a shock, Hoseok thinks. Besides, it's the only bar in this whole area that's willing to sell a couple nineteen year olds some booze.

Kang's in his mid-forties, divorced and father of two. He looks like a chipmunk when he's pissed (ninety eight percent of them time Hoseok's seen him), and when he shoots, he kills, or so Jooheon, the bartender, says. He doesn't just own the bar, Jooheon explains once, with the air of someone who's told the story many times even though he really shouldn't. He owns half the district's establishments and, although only rumored, the largest hit-men list in this side of the city. "He keeps the streets safe," Jooheon says, "no one deals to kids, no one buys women. It's a good neighborhood."

"Plus," he winks, "you wanna get rid of someone and got the cash to pay for it," Jooheon stage-whispers, "they do it."

Hyunwoo laughs, half-drunk already, the dickhead, and Hoseok looks over to where Kang is sitting, morning's paper covering him from the rest of the pub's eyes, not just Hoseok', and thinks, _No way_.

 

 

Hyungwon hangs out around the bar almost every night. He's quite friendly (all things considered) and he's got a dark sense of humor that Hoseok quickly finds himself tuned into. They get along pretty well, all three of them, and when Hoseok asks what does he do for a living, Hyungwon doesn't even seem to think twice before saying, "I work for Mr. Kang."

It can mean a lot of things, though. Maybe Hyungwon works in the pub, maybe he's a barman, or the accountant or even the janitor. But there's a shift in his shoulders as he says it, a twist to his mouth barely there for Hoseok to really say he's seen it.

"He seems fine for a thug, though," Hyunwoo says much later as they get into their tiny apartment and kick their shoes in every direction possible except the right one. He puts the take-out box with his last slice of birthday cake on the tiny kitchen table and raises his eyebrows at Hoseok. "Don't you think?"

Hoseok nods, drops dead on the couch. "You won't be saying that if he puts a bullet through your head, I suppose."

"Neither would you," Hyunwoo snorts, "you'd be too dead to speak."

"You think you're funny," Hoseok grumbles.

Hyunwoo laughs and slaps Hoseok's ass on his way to his room. "Get into bed, yeah? Don't wanna wake up and find you've drooled on the couch. Again."

"You're lucky it's still your birthday," Hoseok mutters (fondly, with a lump in his throat, because even if no one's expecting him to, Hyunwoo still plays the chiding mom part pretty well) as he gets up.

"Am I?" Hyunwoo asks, walking out shirtless and with his hair rumpled, grinning at Hoseok, who's suddenly very keen on choking around his own tongue. He grabs Hoseok's hand, pulls him close, mutters, "Well, happy fucking twentieth birthday to me," before closing the distance between their mouths.

 

 

Kang's bar becomes a gang-war movie scene one night and after Hoseok and Hyunwoo sort of help out knock a few of the intruders around the heads (Hoseok's knocked out two dudes with his bare hands and half a chair respectively, and Hyunwoo's handled three with a broomstick), Kang asks them if they have a job.

They're not kids anymore. They do what it takes to survive and somehow the most gruesome thing they've done is corner a dude for cash with a knife (Hyunwoo loves to remind him the thing could barely slice through soft butter but that's neither here nor there), but this— this is a whole different thing.

"I don't—" he starts, but Kang puts up a hand, nods once and says, "Kihyun's told me about you. So has Hyungwon."

Hyungwon ducks out from behind the shredded counter, eyes dancing with mirth.

"We can use men like you, both of you," Kang says quietly, hands shoved in his jacket's pockets. "Pay's good. Think about it."

Turns out the pub isn't only a pub but has a large basement where Hyungwon and Jooheon sometimes crash in for the night. It's got a couple bunker beds and a small bathroom and kitchen to the side, and when Kang tells them the streets are probably holding out for their heads, they agree to stay the night.

"This is—" Hyunwoo starts, runs a hand through his hair. There's a manic look to his face, like he's crushed between the dire need to laugh his head off or scream until his lungs rip. He sort of looks like the first time they did E together before he crashed for almost twenty hours and Hoseok worried his poor heart to an early (or earlier) death.

"I know," Hoseok nods, his hands shaking, "I fucking know."

 

 

Hoseok hates October. Hates it because it fades into November faster than it takes him to brace himself for the memories. He doesn't visit the graveyard, doesn't leave flowers anymore. Instead, he spends the day holed up in bed, buried beneath all the blankets he can get his hands on, his eyes closed as he thinks of back then.

Hyunwoo never asks, never complains when Hoseok doesn't get up, doesn't even eat.

That is, until now.

"Do you remember that time you caught the chickenpox back in third grade?" he asks, leaning against the frame of Hoseok's bedroom door. He's still wearing his working suit (a pair of black, fitted jeans that Hoseok despises with the power of ten suns and then some because it takes forever to get Hyunwoo out of them).

He looks a lot older than he did the last time Hoseok saw him, a few hours ago before he left with Hyungwon for work. It makes him wonder how much of them this whole thing is taking away for free, how much it's chipping away without them realizing.

Hoseok stares back at him steadily, would even notch his chin up in defiance if it weren't fucking November. But he does remember; remembers his mom and her yells of, "You're not allowed to see him!" and both Hyunwoo's and his brother's retaliations,

"We're gonna take care of him."

"That day, I promised him I'd look after you."

Hyunwoo pads closer, makes the tons of blankets part and wrinkle and Hoseok doesn't push him away when Hyunwoo leans in and kisses him, slow and gentle and feather-like, nor when he straddles Hoseok's hips and rocks his own.

Hoseok props himself on his elbows to meet Hyunwoo's mouth halfway next time and is glad for the distraction, for having Hyunwoo's mouth kissing ugly memories away.

 

 

When Hoseok starts smoking, the first one to bitch about it is Kihyun.

"It is going to kill you," he says sternly, even as he sips on his wine. Hoseok wants to make a comment but instead blows the smoke in Kihyun's direction. "And while it does, it will kill us all, too."

At this, Hoseok laughs, taking a drag of his cigarette, index finger circling the rim of his own glass. Changkyun is playing the piano somewhere in the bar, and Minhyuk and Jooheon are providing lyrics that aren't really appropriate. Kang is yelling at them from his office to shut the fuck up but there's no bite to his words, and he seems to laugh pretty loudly from time to time.

"Oh, well," Hoseok exhales. Smiles. "We're all going to die eventually, aren't we?"

Kihyun pours them more wine.

(Hyunwoo doesn't complain, not once, not even when they're making out and Hoseok is sure he tastes like tobacco and smoke. He murmurs, "I don't mind the taste," as he kisses down Hoseok's neck, and Hoseok trusts him, can't say he's surprised when he finds Hyunwoo stealing a fag from his pack a couple of weeks after.

"It helps with my anxiety," Hyunwoo says, and Hoseok nods, buys extra from the convenience store across their street, and Hyunwoo kisses him breathless as thanks.)

 

 

They shouldn't be doing this, Hoseok thinks. "We shouldn't—" he tries, but Hyunwoo's mouth is distracting and his hands are everywhere and Hoseok is so hard he aches.

They're down in the basement this time, propped up against the wall of the tiny bathroom, and he remembers Kang saying sex isn't allowed, especially not _here_ , because everyone has eyes in this place, friend or foe. It doesn't stop them, though, doesn't stop Hyunwoo from sneaking a hand in between them and then down Hoseok's pants, and _there_ , yes, that's exactly where Hoseok wants him.

"Hyunwoo," Hoseok's voice comes out throaty and thick, and a moan wrecks his throat as Hyunwoo's hand deeps lower, and lower, until the pad of his middle finger brushes against his hole.

Hoseok comes. Comes so hard he nearly blacks out, Hyunwoo's body pinning him against the wall the only thing keeping him from meeting the floor face-first.

 

 

"You and Hyunwoo," Kihyun says one afternoon. They're on the rooftop of his building, sprawled on mismatched lawn chairs, beers warming between them as Minhyuk and Hyungwon attempt to grill something for lunch.

Hoseok spots Hyunwoo with the corner of his eye, he is near the ledge, nursing a beer of his own as he and Changkyun discuss the perks of crossbows and trajectory and shit Hoseok never really pays attention to but seems to make Hyunwoo geek out like crazy.

He takes a deep breath. "What about me and Hyunwoo," Hoseok asks, flat. His can is all sweaty under his palm, the July sun making everything sticky and warm. It's hideous, Hoseok hates this weather like the plague. (But only a little because summer means Hyunwoo sleeps in only his boxers and Hoseok's never going to refuse the sight of that.)

"Are you guys fucking?" Kihyun's never been one to pull his punches.

Hoseok sighs, eyes closing behind his dark glasses. "So what if we are. Are you gonna tell me it's forbidden? Against the rules? Kindly suck my dick."

Kihyun snorts. "I'm not your mother, you can fuck whoever you want. And I'm definitely not sucking your dick, thank you very much. Hyunwoo might beat me to death, I'm too pretty to die all bloody like that."

Hoseok snorts and takes another pull from his beer, and across the roof, Hyunwoo winks his way.

 

 

This one's supposed to be easy. Target's a known drug dealer and has been messing around with Kang's area for the past couple of months (not to mention he's tried to get his hands on one of Kang's kids and he's gone and made it personal, the idiot).

Hoseok nods as Hyungwon briefs them and barely misses the fleeting glances between Hyunwoo and Minhyuk, except— except they're being really obvious.

Or maybe Hoseok is hallucinating.

It shakes something, though, something Hoseok hasn't dealt with in forever and something he can't quite afford to deal with, not now, not here.

Not ever, if he's got a say in it.

But it turns out he doesn't really have a say in _anything_ , not at all, because it comes back and bites him in the ass when he's supposed to be putting a bullet through the target's skull, and he misses by a hair. No pun intended.

"What the fuck," Changkyun says tiredly through the ear piece. There are bustling sounds from his side and Minhyuk's hurried "Should've let me do it", but other than that, no one says a thing.

"Shut up," Hoseok grits anyways, and fires again. Twice, just to be sure. He hates team jobs like this one.

 

 

"Are you fucking Minhyuk?"

Hyunwoo's hand stops mid shave. He stares back at Hoseok through the mirror, eyes wide and unfocused. "You talking to me?"

If his tongue weren't so thick, Hoseok would laugh. "Of course I'm talking to you, who else would I be fucking talking to in here?"

Hyunwoo goes back to his shaving ritual, to his _silent_ shaving ritual, and Hoseok sways from exasperation to annoyance to resignation to a bit of heartbreak that wholeheartedly denies later, frowning down at his mug of coffee since frowning up at Hyunwoo is a no by default.

But then Hyunwoo knocks on the glass once, and when Hoseok looks up, his face is clean as it always has been for the past four years at 8AM.

"I'm not," he says, "not my type."

Hoseok's coffee tastes a lot better after that, even if Hyunwoo's coffee making skills are beyond salvation.

"I like it when you get jealous." Hyunwoo sits across from him, a mug of his own on the table. He smiles, eyes almost disappearing. "It’s exceedingly cute."

"I hate you," Hoseok huffs.

Hyunwoo knocks their knees together under the table and doesn't pull away. "Hate you, too," he says softly.

**Author's Note:**

> comments are much appreciated <3 #iloveshowhosomuchbyeeeeeee


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